


Death Lies Waiting

by AshenStardust



Category: The Gentlemen (2019)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Mickey Pearson is a good person, Porn With Plot, Raymond Smith is Soft and makes time for his s/o, Safehouses, Second person POV, Sex, Smut, good intentions gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenStardust/pseuds/AshenStardust
Summary: The Reader and Ray have been happily married for years. Ray takes the stresses of his job in stride with the happiness he finds at home. Everything wasn't supposed to fall apart at a whim. Their demise was written in schemes, but not everything is as it seems.
Relationships: Raymond Smith/Reader, ray/reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the end to this before the beginning.  
> I'm quite happy with it, and a friend of mine convinced me to make it a two-part work.  
> I'll have the second part up just as soon as I'm done editing it.

You startled awake at the sound of an alarm. No sooner than your eyes flew open and you were sitting up in bed did the noise cease. You blinked blearily at Ray who was smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, love. Mickey needs me this morning.”

Ray repositioned himself on the bed so he could sit behind you. His hands rubbed soothingly on your back and when you leaned into his fingers he began messaging up and down your spine. You hummed, content. “And you’ll be back this afternoon?” It wasn’t like Mickey to keep Ray away from you on your few days off. Ray hummed an affirmative behind you.

He moved his hands, slowly, to your hips. He grabbed you half-roughly and pulled you to him until your back was flush to his chest. You gasped and giggled and helped him get your panties off. You were going to chastise him, tell him to go to work, but then his lips were on your neck and your will dissolved.

His hands roved your shapes and you turned your head so he could kiss you properly. You enjoyed the taste of each other. The familiarity. Then his hands moved, and he shifted you, so your legs were trapped on the outside of his, spreading you. His fingers delved to your sex and you moaned. He explored your folds for only a heartbeat before his fingers moved to your clit. He pressed soft patterns into it.

You reached your hands back. One tangling through his hair, and the other gripped his shoulder. Once he set a rhythm you arched and whined. Your head rested on his chest. His lips played lazily across your skin. Occasionally he would scrape his teeth over your neck and mark you. Ray knew your body well. He knew when your breathing began to labor that you were ready for more.

His second hand had been squeezing your thigh intermittently. Whenever you tried to close yourself to him, he used it to help keep you open. After all these years he still made your skin alight with a sensitivity you hoped never waned. He moved that hand, then, to your entrance. You were dripping wet and he inserted a finger. You shuddered at the feeling and he added another before he began fucking you with them.

You gasped and moaned and writhed. Ray smiled against your skin at your reaction. He manipulated your pleasure and when you bucked against him, he moaned in turn. “I love to see you like this,” he admitted, “wet and pliant and mine.” His tone was nearly a growl. 

You could only moan in response. Your own pleasure was consuming. He quickened his pace. His fingers fucking you became harsh and precise. “Cum for me, my love. Show me how good I make you feel.”

You did. At his words your orgasm was pulled from you. You moaned his name and your hands turned to claws where they gripped him. He kept his fingers on you, overstimulating you through your orgasm, until you were limp against him. He removed his hands from your sex and rested them on your thighs. You had precious few minutes to lie against him. Your eyes slipped closed and you breathed in time with the rise and fall of his chest. 

“Be safe today?” It was the same request you made of him every morning. You moved your legs, but he grabbed you before you could get up. You turned your head and he kissed you again. You melted into it and you both took too much time in letting each other go. The same as every morning.

You pulled away first and rested your forehead against his. Ray offered you the same assurance he always had, “I’ll always come back to you.” You smiled and moved off the bed so he could get ready for the day. You wrapped a robe around yourself and went downstairs. You weren’t obligated to make him breakfast, but you did like to. You prepared something simple while you heard him shower and dress.

You were putting his breakfast in a container when you saw him coming down the stairs. He grabbed the container from you and pecked you on the lips. “Thanks, love. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“I love you,” you said as he took his keys from a hook near the door.

“And I love you.” He looked back long enough to tell you, and then he was out the door.

You sulked for a while after that. You hated when Mickey made him work on your days off. It happened so rarely, but it was rude every time. You grabbed a book off the end table and settled with a blanket on the couch. You were shortly absorbed with your book.

There was a knock at the door. You had long learned not to dread the sound, but somewhere in your gut you did still. You rose, abandoning your blanket to the couch, and answered it.

Mickey. The man you hated to have in your home when unaccompanied by Ray. He looked... Something. Reserved, mainly. "May I come in?" It seemed a genuine question.

Although you were denying it, your guess of his news had already knocked the wind from you. You pulled your robe closed more tightly. "No." You barely choked the word out.

"Please, you need to sit. Something." Mickey was imploring you. You stood your ground and used the door to support you. Words failed you so you only shook your head. You were waiting for him to prove you wrong.

"This morning there was a hit-and-run -" he kept talking but you couldn't hear beyond the blood rushing in your ears. Your worst fear you had about your husband’s job had become reality. "I'm so sorry. He was dead by the time he reached the hospital." Your legs buckled in full underneath you and you sunk to the floor.

You wailed and Mickey cursed. He had his hands on you, moving you, closing the door. You would not stop your vocal anguish and he did not force you to. He sat with you on the couch and rubbed your back soothingly.

He did not speak again until your cries stifled down to silent sobs. You wanted comfort, but you didn't want Mickey's comfort.

"We'll take care of you. I'll take care of you." He sounded like he was making a vow. You were sick and you wanted him out of your home. For the sake of seeing him leave you nodded your head in acceptance. Between you and Ray there was more than enough money for you to live well. A part of you wanted to inconvenience Mickey although you knew he cared more for his vows than his money.

A long pause stretched between you. It was certainly not your burden to keep a conversation going. You wept and rocked in place while Mickey seemed lost as to what to do next. "Do you have someone to stay with?"

You shook your head. Your family was estranged or dead, and Ray's were just dead. Now Ray was too. "Am I safe?" You asked and it seemed to trip Mickey up.

"What?"

"Am I safe?"

You picked at the blanket as Mickey collected his thoughts. "Oh. Yeah. Ray - the hit-and-run was unrelated. I'll find who did it. Do you want to see them when I do?"

"No. I trust you." That, at least, was true. Plus, you didn't want to know who had taken Ray from you. It didn't matter. They were nobody. Knowing them would only fill you with pain.

You looked to him again for the first time since he'd given you the news. "Can I be alone now?"

He looked skeptical at best. You knew Ray told him everything. Even being employed to Mickey they were somewhat friends. For all the bad business Mickey was in, he cared for his employees, especially those in his inner circle. The look on his face told you he knew your devotion to Ray. "I'm going to send someone to check up on you. Bring you meals. Ray wouldn't want you to be alone."

"Thank you." You nearly left his words to the air but thought better of it. You would be consumed with desolation on your own. Ray wouldn't have wanted that, and he would have wanted Mickey to take care of you.

Seemingly settled and assured you were somewhat okay to be left alone Mickey stood. He gave you a sort of nod, placed a card on your end table, and left.

You scrambled for the card. The only thing written on it was an address. You furrowed your brow and left the card as it was. Tonight you were getting drunk and crying alone. Tomorrow you would ascertain the details of Ray's funeral and will. Maybe you'd find where that address led.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Ray's death. Mickey becomes fed up with the Reader's grieving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to my friend who doesn't like sad endings.

You didn’t wake up until well into the afternoon. People came to the house intermittently. Most knew their way around the house and after the first week they’d relented from trying to get you out of bed. It wasn’t their fault they’d given up on you. Making sure you were alive and had access to food was a job. They were paid to keep you alive, not to get you functioning.

You rolled to your side and stared at the closed drapes. The evening sun was on the other side of the house, so the room was darker than it had been all day. You groaned and tears slipped down your cheeks. It had been a month since Mickey had come to your door.

After that initial night of getting piss drunk and passing out you hadn’t worked up the desire to do anything. Ray had been your whole world. You had retired early after you’d been married and taken up a menial job to pass the time.

No one had pushed you to wrap yourself so wholly around him. Over the years you had not felt like you had. It wasn’t until he was gone that you realized the hole he left in your soul and your life. Everything was Ray. His job, his high lifestyle parties and dinners, his taking care of you. And he hadn’t tricked you. Every decision you made was made with your full understanding of the situation. Ray had never kept secrets from you.

You didn’t know how to be without him. Beyond the loss you felt, you were ashamed. Had you tricked yourself into thinking you weren’t codependent? Was this how everyone grieved? Would you ever find yourself again?

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew you wouldn’t be well until you left your bed, your house. His house, his bed. The address was still burned behind your eyes. You could start there. You sat up. No. You could start with a shower and change of clothes. The thought made your energy seep into the ether. You flopped back down on the bed.

The ceiling was no more interesting than it had been all month. You were about to try to sleep again when you heard your front door open and close. You listened for the intruder. No doubt someone making sure you ate dinner, or at all. You waited as you listened to them ascend the stairs and walk down the hall to the master bedroom. The doorknob turned and the light blared, and you squinted at Mickey. 

He looked like he was trying to hide how angry he was. “Are you decent?” his words were clipped. Maybe he was mad at you. That would be novel. If anyone was to be mad at anyone else, it certainly wasn’t him to you.

“What do you want Mickey?” You didn’t even try to sound anything more than exhausted.

“Now that’s no way to talk to a concerned party.” He was chastising you and moving closer to the bed. You raised a brow at him. “We need to go for a car ride.”

Well then. You didn’t know you were in a competition. Furthermore, you hadn’t expected to win. “Sure,” you acquiesced. You pushed the plush duvet aside and rose to unsteady legs. Mickey moved to help you, but you held up a hand. You just needed a moment to regain yourself. You wiped your tears away with the back of your hand and took a few steps. You found your legs with some practice. Your constant weeping couldn’t be helped. At this point it was nothing more than a background function, like breathing.

Mickey let you lead, but you stopped when you reached the top of the stairs. “I may need some assistance,” you admitted. Mickey laughed lightly but was quick to help you. He put an arm around your waist, and another on your arm to steady you. You took the first step down and tried not to go too slowly to be annoying. 

You had expected a driver when you walked out to the sleek black car in your driveway. There was none. Mickey helped you into the passenger’s seat and once you were both buckled, he sped off. He didn’t slow down until you were well out of the city and approaching a warehouse. “You know, he’s mad at me for this,” Mickey noted dryly. You looked at him in question, but he stayed silent and parked the car.

Mickey helped you out the car but refrained from touching you further as he led you to the warehouse. You almost wondered if he was leading you to your death. It hadn’t felt like it when he’d given you the address. Ray had said something about Mickey not caring for undue violence. You were certain any more violence against you was undue.

A door on the side of the warehouse opened as you approached. “I wasn’t against this. I just attract more attention.” You ignored what Mickey was saying. It largely made no sense. The inside was packed with products of some kind. Legitimate product, as you knew he kept his farms well hidden under legitimacy. “I told him it was a terrible idea. Well. It was my idea, but I did warn him it was terrible.”

You nearly snapped at him for continuing to talk nonsense. Instead you kept your head down and tuned him out as best you could. He led you to a set of offices located near the center of the warehouse. Mickey held the door open for you and you took a hesitant step through.

The inside had been renovated into a sort of apartment. Barebones, but nice. Your eyes glazed over the room, unseeing. Then snapped back to the shape in the middle. It felt like your heart stopped. Your breathing caught and your lungs refused to draw more air. Him. Ray. He stood in the middle of the room looking apologetic and in almost as much pain as you.

A hallucination? He was dead. You knew he was dead. A month had passed, and you had no illusions that he was not coming back. That stage of grief was utterly skipped over. You trusted Mickey implicitly to tell you the truth. This was nothing more than your aggrieved mind shattering.

“Hello, love.” His voice was gravelly. You could feel his grief in the air as thick as your own.

You had the presence of mind to feel outraged. “How dare you?” you hissed.

Ray held his hands up in surrender. Tears shone in his eyes and for the first time yours were dry. “Please. You were meant to join me.” He looked past you to glare at Mickey. You didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Are you real?”

Ray looked suddenly stricken. He took slow steps toward you and never dropped his hands. You eyed him warily, as if he could go up in smoke. His hands took your arms gently. Warm, grounding, real. You broke then. A wail tore from you and you collapsed into him. A month of him being dead. A month of feeling less because you had loved him, and he was gone, and you would rather drown in your emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you readily. The familiar scratch of his beard on your neck wracked a sob from your throat. He had his head buried in your shoulder. His grip on you tighter than you had ever known. Like if he did not hold you to him then you would be gone. Missing from him. Or you were projecting your own feelings.

“I will always return to you,” he vowed softly in your ear.

“Is he gone?”

You felt Ray move to look over your shoulder. The door clicked closed, and he leant away some to look at you. You moved your hands up to cradle his face and pulled him to kiss you. He smiled and chuckled softly and returned your kiss. “Bed. Now.” You were commanding.

Ray sighed, smothering some other emotion, and obliged. You followed him, taking your clothes off as you went. He sat on the bed and stared at you half in wonder. You grabbed at the bottom of his shirt and began pulling up. “Off.” Your word was clipped, and he did as he was told.

When he was naked you pushed him back on the bed. Until he was lying down. His cock was already hard, and you grabbed it firmly in your hand as you straddled him. You stroked him gently and studied his reaction. His back arched at the contact, his pupils blew, and his breathing caught. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile.

You lined his cock and sank down. A shuddering breath escaped you both as you slowly took him. Inch by blessed inch until he was sheathed fully inside you. Your movements began small. You pressed your hands on his chest to steady you. His eyes roved your body as you ground your hips in small circles. “Look at me.” Your command had his eyes snapping to yours. 

Your clit rubbed on his torso and your nostrils flared. You wanted him to see you. You needed him to see you. Every emotion. Every pain. You didn’t lift yourself from him until he began to whine. It was a small thing. A sound you rarely heard from him. You couldn’t even remember the last time. Then you began to ride him.

His hands rested on your hips, but he let you control. You kept eye contact as you set a fast pace. With each thrust of his cock inside you, you wanted to groan. You wanted to weep. You did both. He raised a hand to stroke your cheek. Then trailed it over your shoulder and down your side. His fingers brushing so softly it was nearly ticklish.

You fucked him in silence. In anguish. In a promise to never make each other feel this way again. Suddenly he pressed a finger to your clit. You knew he was close, and he wanted you to orgasm with him. His finger ground roughly into you. The friction increased with your frantic movements. 

“Please,” you were begging for something. Everything.

“Always.”

“Please.”

“Always.”

“Please.” Your last plea was a long groan as your orgasm finally took you. You shuddered and collapsed softly onto him. He thrust into you twice more before spilling his seed inside you. He moaned in your ear. His hands went to your back. He held you to him and traced meaningless patterns on your skin.

“Always. I will always,” he swore quietly in your ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated <3 .


End file.
